


Odd One Out

by WatchOverYourAssButt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst/Hurt and Comfort, M/M, Season9 and Up Timeline, True!Form Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatchOverYourAssButt/pseuds/WatchOverYourAssButt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heaven's gone to hell, Hell's gone all over the pace, and everything's just crap in the middle. And the boys are no better off, and in their recovery, Castiel is finding he has no purpose anymore. Dean argues differently, but of course, nothing can ever be simple. And what comes changes everything between Dean and Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -Forewarning—this fic was meant to be a one-shot but with just a few chapters to it, so it is short, only two chapters, I do hope that the quality makes up for the lacking quantity. This is for my awesome friend and fellow shipper~ Hope you like, Heather!-

Odd One Out

Ch.1

 

 

"Cas?"

The elder hunter's shoes made stumps upon the ground as he wandered about the bunker, currently seeking out their more-or-less-still holy friend, even if minus most the mojo. Sam was still searching for a new job. Dean thought it a bit pointless, yet he let his brother do it, waiting for him to find the job even so. They both seemed at a place, with all the crap-storming going on outside their home, where they just needed a break; they needed something like it used to be—they needed what used to be normal to them before every day seemed to be a battle against the whole world.

So he let him be, having dressed and prepared for a job that might come, though he hadn't dressed in many layers as of yet. And with no idea of what their extra member might be committing to at the moment, he felt the need to seek him out. He passed through the extra rooms, spotting a sleeping Kevin resting his head on stacks of papers, a noticeable pool of drool spilling on the edge of some pages.

Sighing, he shut the kids' door and let him be, continuing on through the bunker and calling out, again. "Cas, buddy, where you at?"

There was still no answer, and Dean was getting a bit aggravated. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks in the middle of the hallway he was walking. He looked down in consideration, and then shoved a hand in his pocket, pulling out his cell, and pressing the speed-dial button for Castiel's number. He didn't raise the phone to his ear; he just listened, and listened.

And then he heard the very annoying, generic tone that was still Castiel's ringtone and he followed it before it went out. Castiel must have been surprised, because it took him a moment to ignore the call—but he obviously pressed ignore, because he sure didn't answer it and the call still cut short. Too late, of course. Dean was outside the door now where he'd heard the ringtone ringing from. But not outside the room they'd offered Castiel when they'd brought him home to the bunker after all that drama at the hospital.

No, he knew even before he opened the door, this room was mostly empty aside from some extra books and seemingly-and-most-likely useless trinkets and objects. It was a storage room, and Castiel was sitting right in the far corner slightly surrounded by boxes.

His body language showed he heard Dean as the hunter opened the door and entered slowly. The angel's body fidgeted slightly, his knees moving closer to his chest as his arms rested on his knees, and his head turned further in the opposite direction of the door. But he said and did nothing. Dean made a face that Castiel didn't see, one that could be followed up with a dry comment of, 'Really?' if one were to see it.

Dean stowed his phone away and closed more of the space of the room, standing over Castiel. Silence encompassed them as they seemed to wait for the other to speak. And it ended up being Dean's job, as he figured it would be.

"Going deaf, Cas?" he asked with slight irritation, but there was a touch of worry underneath it that could barely be heard.

Castiel sighed, and shook his head. "My hearing is normal."

"You sure 'bout that? Cause I've been calling for ya for about eight friggin' minutes." Maybe almost an exaggeration, but still, it was close enough. "You ignored my call to your phone, too, what was that about?"

As Castiel continued to keep whatever was wrong with him, to himself, Dean took a breath and sighed, squatting down in front of him and looking straight to him, even if the angel avoided doing the same.

"What's up, buddy? Seriously." Dean asked, and though the seriousness showed in his voice, his tone softened in that way it tended to do; the rough noise of his voice was always there, but there was something in his voice, that held knowing and understanding that made certain few feel like they could pop open a beer, plop on a stool and confess all their problems to him and ignore it for the rest of the night.

And that feeling almost pushed Castiel to speak earnestly, it truly did, but he could only shake his head. "There's…nothing up, Dean. At least not in the way you're asking me."

"Bullcrap."

Castiel finally looked at him then, and the way his features were twisted reminded Dean so much of some of their darker days together, the many things that weighed upon all of them. What was weighing on Castiel so much that he couldn't even talk about it? Well, if he wouldn't talk about it, then fine, but Dean wouldn't just leave him to sulk in whatever his thoughts were trying to drown him in.

"Look, Sammy's got a job prospect—we were thinking we might need some angel knowledge, so how about you come get ready, maybe get a bite of something, and we'll see what Sam's got, alright, come on." He whacked Castiel's leg and stood, expecting to see Castiel start doing the same, only to be disappointed. Castiel's gaze just fell again, and he just sat there still once more.

"Cas, come on." Dean urged with the sound of impatience, hoping it might stir him.

"No." Castiel tells him, and Dean is surprised by the firmness in his answer, and Castiel continued without looking to Dean. "I would be of no use there—if you really end up in need of answers to questions, the cell-phones are an option. I'd prefer to stay here, so I can stay out of the way."

"The hell does that mean, stay out of the way?" Dean asks. "No use?—come on, Cas, we can use your help."

Castiel looks up again then, giving Dean a look that questioned that statement. "Do you really believe that?"

 

" _ **F-falling…what do you mean angels are…falling..?!"**_ _Sam asked in the back seat, twitching now and again, but mostly laid out in pain, just barely grasping on to coherency, his arms were burning and it sent an excruciating ache through his body. He gasped, laying back._

" _They fell, Sam, I don't know! They…" Dean didn't have any words, his skin was still chilled in a terrifying way. What could have possibly happened? But he could barely even try to figure out; something was wrong with Sam, and he needed to get him help. Trying to remember the route to the nearest hospital, even he even had the route right, his heart was racing. He could still see one or another angel falling, now and again—like shooting stars._

_And suddenly Sam gave yell of pain and he went silent behind him. Dean looked back in panic, seeing Sam was out, or seemed to be. "Sammy..! SAM!"_

_He looked back to the road, ready to pull over and slap his brother awake, only to slam on the brakes. "Shit!"_

_Castiel had suddenly stumbled into the road in front of the Impala, looking broken, in fear, and in despair, the lights of the impala making it all seem even harsher. Dean exited the car after it halted so close, swerved a bit, before Castiel, standing by the door. "Cas!? The hells going on?"_

"…" _Castiel couldn't answer, he just looked up to the skies and swallowed hard._

" _Damn it, get in, we gotta get Sam help."_

_Castiel barely hesitated, entering the car into the passenger seat and looking back to Sam where he lay unconscious. "…What happened to him, Dean?"_

" _I don't know, the damn trials, he…I stopped him before he could finish the last…and it's like…something started hurting him, I have no damn idea! He was screaming in pain and he's out, Cas, he needs help!" Dean said, and before starting the car, he looked between the worried angel and his unconscious brother. "Cas, help him. Please."_

"… _I…can't."_

" _The hell do you mean you can't?!"_

" _I don't have my grace…!" Castiel admitted, looking to Dean reluctantly, and seeing the shock there, he kept the man's gaze like a guilty fool. "…I'm…I'm not an angel…anymore.."_

_Dean just stared at him silently, wordless, various emotions crossing his face in a span of seconds, and a million more thoughts, but he said nothing and started the car up again and picked up the speed, not caring if he risked police trying to pull them over._

_Swerving up to the emergency entrance, Dean and Castiel pulled Sam's long and heavy form out of the car and carried him inside, Dean pushing his feet as fast as he could to get Sam to help as soon as possible. Some yelling at nurses, near fights with others, and complaints about time and panicked explanations of not knowing what's wrong, and they were finally set up in a room._

_Sam was plugged up and jabbed with various wires and tubes and they set to work, keeping Dean and Castiel outside. Dean paced back and forth, and with the silence that followed as he did so, Castiel disappeared further into the hospital, searching for the chapel._

_It took him some time, but he found it, half full of others and he sat in the furthest corner in the back. Looking around at the statues, the flowers, the windows and their images, he sighed and bowed his head. His voice was thick as he began to speak. "Brothers…sisters… I…know I have no right to call to any of you…but I do not do this for myself. Sam Winchester has risked his life to attempt to close the gates of Hell, and…many factors stopped him from doing so, and he is paying for it. Please…if any of you can hear me now, I ask that you come and help him. The Winchesters, despite the flaws most of you may see, are a gift made by our Father… Sam deserves to live… Please, I…" Castiel shook his head. "I'll do—"_

" _Anything?" he heard a female voice behind him and stood in surprised, looking to see an Indian woman and a man with glasses watching him._

_He was surprised that they came so soon (as he could still faintly tell (for now) that they were angels), he was speechless for a moment, and the man spoke._

" _Well?"_

" _W-well…what?" Castiel asked the man._

" _Would you do anything, for us to heal the Winchester?" the man asked._

_Castiel looked between the two of them, and in the distance he could hear the echoes of Dean yelling. He nodded slowly but firmly. "Yes, I would."_

" _Then we'll do it." The woman promises, and Castiel sighs in relief. "We'll heal him, in exchange for you giving yourself over to us."_

_Castiel is taken aback by this only briefly. He could imagine very well what they would do with him in their clutches, and as he imagined each lick of vengeance they and perhaps more might lay upon him, he knew._

" _I agree."_

_Castiel ran into Dean on his way back, with the angels in tow behind him._

" _Cas, what the hell? Where'd you go, and who are they?"_

" _I called for them." Castiel explained, glancing back to them. "Angels. They'll help Sam, they've promised me."_

_Dean sized them up with a doubtful, angry, and hateful gaze. "Oh really? And why the hell should I trust you guys to help him and not kill'em?"_

" _We're not doing this for free, Winchester." The woman told him. "We have a price, and it's been promised to be paid. But if you'd like to continue testing and interrogating us while your brother dies, then feel free to go on."_

_Dean narrowed his gaze, nostrils flared._

" _Dean…" Castiel said his name, carefully, placing a hand on the hunters shoulder. "We need to save Sam."_

_He stared for a moment longer, before marching back to where they had Sam. They had to wait for some time before they would have the privacy for the four of them to enter and work on helping Sam, and Dean was very restless. Even more so as the doctors came out and informed Dean that Sam was in a comatose state, with no evidence or indication of cause for being in that state, and that fact offered little help for pulling him out of that state. He ungraciously thanked the doctor and entered the room, Castiel and the other angels entering behind him._

_Sam lay there on the hospital bed, and it was as if the lights in the room made him look worse than before. He looked so weak, broken, and so far away. Dean came to his bed side, looking him over with furrowed brows and tight shoulders._

" _Well what are you assholes waiting for….get too it…"_

_The angels pushed past Dean, and he watched as they both put forth the energy to work on Sam. He'd hoped with double the angel healing, Sam would be fine in seconds, but the longer they worked, he knew there was more damage to be mended than he'd even considered. He looked to Castiel, who was sitting in one of the chairs, leaned upon his knees and watching the ground. Dean went and sat by him with an angry plop; if a plop in a seat could be angry, Dean could surely make it so._

" _So what did they ask for as payment, huh? The eighth wonder of the world, stairway to heaven?" he ran a hand through his hair._

_Castiel didn't answer, and Dean looked to him._

" _Cas, what did they ask for?"_

_The former angel didn't look to him, but answered. "Something every angel probably wants at this point. It was enough to convince them to help Sam, and that's what matters."_

_Dean's jaw tightened. "Cas…I think you realize I have some pent up aggravation right now….so if you don't give me a straight answer, I swear to god, I'll beat it out of you."_

" _He's got a lot of damage." The male angel at Sam's side spoke then, sounding as if he was exerting a decent amount of energy for this. "You're lucky you have the two of us here… We're working from the inside out."_

" _He'll be fine, but he'll need rest and recovery time." The woman informed them as they were still working away._

" _Yeah, thanks…" Dean muttered just loud enough for them to hear, looking back to Castiel who was watching Sam with worry and sadness but a strange relief._

"… _Cas…what did you promise them?"_

_Castiel sighed then, casting his gaze up. Dean wouldn't leave this alone. He didn't look to Dean as silently, he answered. "…Myself, to them. Which is only right—it's my fault this happened. It's my fault Heaven was so damaged that it was weak against…against problems like Naomi and…and M-"_

" _He's healed, now." The woman told them then, her and the other angel straightening and looking to Castiel._

_Castiel straightened up in his seat as the two angels watched him and began closing the space to him. Castiel did nothing to leave or stop them. He had no intention of going back on his promise. This was the right thing to do._

_Dean, however, had other plans. Standing and making as if he were going to check on Sam, he passed by the woman, only to reach into her jacket, grasping and finding what he searched for as she jerk away. And suddenly the hilt of her angel blade was the only thing seen in his grasp, jutting out of her stomach as her eyes shown light, a screech of her and her grace bursting into nothing and she crumpled to the ground._

_Castiel stood. "Dean!"_

_Dean was already after the next angel, who then blasted him back into the door, hard enough to shatter the glass of its window. The man turned on Castiel with a glare of unfathomable hatred as he raised his hand, blasting Castiel back and up the wall and nearing him with his blade sliding from his sleeve. He raised the blade._

" _This is what you deserve….for what you've done to us..!" the angel told him, his voice shaking with pain and anger._

_Castiel shut his eyes and waited, only to hear the screech of another fallen brother, eyes shooting open to witness him crumple before Dean where he stood. Castiel slipped down the wall, colliding to the ground on his behind._

_Castiel watched his fallen brother before he looked up to Dean, who looked like a tired soldier who was so near done, but still ready to do what was necessary. "…Dean, I-"_

" _Get up and help me get Sam, before any doctors or security come." Dean demanded, stowing the angel blade and going to Sam's bedside, Castiel soon joining him._

_A few opportune turns, snagging of a wheelchair, and sneaky avoidance and quick feet, and they were outside once more. They slid Sam into the back seat and settle into the impala once again. They were on the road and riding through the darkness for some time before the silence was interrupted._

" _Dean—"_

" _What the hell were you thinking?" Dean asked, his voice tight and terse._

" _I was thinking Sam needed help, more than what doctors could provide, and something that I couldn't do." Castiel explained._

" _But giving yourself over as their, what, punching bag? Hostage? Torture victim?!" Dean questioned._

" _Whatever they had planned for me…I was prepared, Dean, I was ready." Castiel looked to him, almost feeling annoyed he was not allowed to follow through._

" _I don't give a damn what you were prepared for! You don't do shit like that, we could have found another answer! You don't do that without running it by us! You were just going to leave us behind?!" Dean questioned, stealing angry glances when not watching the empty road._

" _I was paying for my sins, Dean, it's no more than what I deserved!"_

_Dean just shook his head, and Castiel looked out the window. Dean didn't understand how deep Castiel's sins were. He would've most likely agreed, if he had. What sane person wouldn't agree, with all he'd done?_

"… _Metatron betrayed me, Dean… He took my grace, and that's…that's what caused the angels to fall. He killed Naomi, and what we were gathering wasn't to shut the gates of Heaven, it was to cast us all out…and my work with him, and my grace, helped him do it." He looked to Dean, waiting for his rage, is annoyance, a sonova' bitch to the sky, maybe even anger to Castiel himself. He even expected the car to stop, and him to be told to get out._

_Nothing._

_For once, Dean kept his eyes on the road, and he said nothing as he drove. Castiel didn't look away, just waiting, patience wearing thin, as the silence almost felt worse. He'd rather take whatever Dean wanted to throw, than to sit there not knowing if Dean thought him a failure, whether or not he was a failure._

_But not a word was spoken, not a single one, other than, "We'll lay Sam up in his room. Check on him now and again." as they arrived and parked outside the bunker._

_Castiel did as he was told, with little word as Sam's still mostly unconscious form was dragged through the bunker, and after avoiding a failed fire of an arrow from Kevin, down to his room where they lay him in his bed, Dean going to far as to half cover him with blankets before making his way out of the room, Castiel following behind him._

_Kevin found them as they were just exiting the long hallway to the study room, and he still seemed just as panicked as he had been when he was hiding with the crossbow. "So what's going on? What even happened out there? Everything went crazy in here, like I've never seen it and—"_

" _Shit happened, like it always does." Dean told him, and Kevin was about to continue. "Angels…they fell, Kevin, and shits' got worse, if that's possible. Hell, it's always possible for us..."_

_Kevin was without words for a moment, and looked paler than he had been when they'd arrived. Swallowing and wetting his dry throat, the prophet seemed to search for words through shaky breathing. "…W-what…what do you do now?"_

_Dean's back faced him, and Castiel, his hand raising up to his face and rubbing over his features, cupping his mouth before dropping the hand to hang at his side. He took a breath, sighed, and turned to the two men watching him. "We hold up here. I ain't risking crossing some home-sick dick with wings or any of our other problems right now, no—no, I ain't doing this right now… Sleep, eat, vacation in your damn rooms, I don't care. We're staying in the bunker until we figure out how we can even handle this crap-storm."_

_Dean turned back then, as if he intended on heading back to Sam or perhaps his room, and Castiel took the chance to try and speak. "Dean, I—"_

_**Dean didn't even stop or look to Castiel, he just said, "Don't."** _

 

"I don't need to be doing anything, Dean." Castiel told him after a moment of letting the reminder of their experience after the fall sink in for Dean. "Because every act I commit seems to have a negative reaction. It seems to be in my very make up, to try to fix things and have them break further."

"Now you're just being a drama queen." Dean started to interrupt, but was surprised to see Castiel wasn't allowing that, as the fallen angel stood and continued.

"I am being perfectly accurate and truthful, Dean." He came toe to toe with Dean, similar to how he had before he'd learned the need for personal space. "No matter my intentions…no matter why I did what I did, it was always for the worst. It doesn't matter that I only meant well, meant to better things. I still made them worse than they were before I tried."

"Yeah, well, whatever you believe Cas, sulking ain't going to make it better—you gotta keep trying. It's bullshit, k, that you should just….just STOP. And it's bullshit that everything you do only makes things worse! You've done plenty'a good."

The look in Castiel's eyes was something Dean honestly wasn't sure he'd seen before, at least not all at once; anger, self-doubt, despair, to look of crushing failure, he looked crippled by ever part of him and Dean didn't even know how to start changing that look. But Castiel continued to give his blue gaze to Dean's green as he spoke. "Was it good, when I began the Civil War in Heaven? When I was working with Crowley to get those souls, to get the upper hand in that war? Was it good when I tried to fill my Fathers' shoes as God, do what he was failing to do, try and better the world to be what you and Sam wanted it to be? What I came to believe it should be? Was it good when my failure released the Leviathan, who took… When even I took…lives that shouldn't have been taken…" his gaze almost wavered, and Dean had a reprieve, almost leaning away from Castiel, but still standing his ground as the ex-angel bore down on him with his words and his conviction and negative belief of himself. "All the damage, I've done, old and new…. I beat you near to DEATH, Dean. How was THAT good?!" his voice was terse, scratching and his gaze angry but Dean could recognize that anger. Self-hatred was something Dean understood well.

Castiel finally gave Dean space as he turned away, shaking his head and taking a moment, but he only returned to his point. "You don't KNOW what Naomi had me do, all because she felt I should make up for the damage I did. She took me from Purgatory to make me pay. And I paid, with Samandriel's life, with…with so much… Nearly your life, you don't…" his voice almost shook, as his head did. He couldn't look at Dean. "…You don't know…what she had me do…what she put me through, to prepare…"

"But you stopped." Dean reminded him then, taking a step closer. "You broke free from her control over you… You broke free, you healed me…" Dean tried to reason, though he still didn't know all the details of course. He'd never really asked more than what was important for the job, for the mission at hand, and Castiel had only told him so much.

"Putting a band-aid on one scratch doesn't mend an entire body full of wounds, Dean. That's not how it works, you've taught me that." Castiel stated, staring to the wall, lost in thoughts and memories that just made his very form seem weak and tired. "No, I'm done… I won't fix anything else, Dean. I'd rather stay here, with my thoughts… This is what I'm meant to be, I've come to realize here in my wonderings… I'm meant to be the odd one out in my existence here."

Dean shook his head, hands on his hips as he still obviously wasn't believing or supporting any of Castiel's points one bit, he felt like this was ridiculous and needed to stop. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm the odd one out in every part of me…" Castiel's brows furrowed as he looked to Dean. "I have no place among you and your fellow humans as one of your own. I can't…live as one, Dean, I just can't. I'm not even a proper Winchester despite your past or current beliefs, whatever they are now." He stated, Dean made a look to question that statement but didn't get a chance to say anything about the implications. "I do it wrong, it seems. My former purpose as your holy aid is long gone without my grace, I'm no use in that aspect. I'm perhaps as bad if not worse than Lucifer as an angel; he may have been terribly corrupt, but at least he still had purpose and success in his self-made and chosen missions before you stopped him. I have nothing anymore, Dean… I can't be…an angel and the friend to the Winchester boys at the same time without twisting one or the other or both. I cannot seem to exist with success as both. There's no point wasting time or breath on whether I make a decent hunter of any sort. I know well I'm laughable." At this point, his sulking was just turning to a resigning to his fate or something of the like. His features were leaning more towards tired and worn out. "I know your faith in me is less that it has been at our best moments, Dean..." he looked to him then. "I'm not the angel…the man…the being you felt to be a part of your family and who felt you were the same…" he just shook his head. "I'm the odd one out of every purpose of existence, every role I could play…. Naomi even told me, something that didn't make sense, but I think I get it now…I've forgotten, perhaps been forced to forget, I have always been this. Rebellious, separate, unusual…defective."

"Cas…" Dean began, unsure yet there was still that strong tone that suggest he was about to argue a separate point.

"You can't honestly say that your faith and trust and approval of me has never been shaken or broken, Dean." Castiel said in a tone that Dean was very sure was to just shut him up.

And Dean did, for the moment, not looking away from Castiel as he ran through all the shit they'd been through together in his mind. From the moment they met until now, skipping a few things of course, but some things were just too great, too big that you couldn't just forget. He remembered his anger at Castiel in the beginning for all he did for Heaven and what little for Earth, but that changed, as everything did with each problem that came up. He remembered all the times Castiel had strayed the wrong way or did something stupid or damaging and how pissed he himself had been, and the times he did blame him. He admitted, he blamed and had been angry with Castiel, plenty of times.

But to him, it was no different than times he might blame Sam, or hell, HIMSELF. He blames himself for far too many things to keep track of, or to dwell on. He's failed in so many things, possibly more things than he even wants to admit to at the moment. He felt those failures, especially the bigger ones, but he wasn't going to let them break him. He couldn't. That wasn't in his job description. And he wouldn't let it be in it for Castiel, either.

"You know what you are, Cas?" he began to speak then, and Castiel looked to him, tiredly. "You're like me. Unsure. Lost. Doubting. But you're trying, too. Always trying, always fighting. We're warriors is what we are, Cas, you and me, and Sam. You and me, we try and fight the right battles. Whether they're right or not, it seems like it at the time. And maybe in a way it was. It always seems like the right one to me…and we fuck up. Alright? It happens, always will, we ain't perfect, no one is. You can't tell me anyone is. Sometimes our fight might end up being for the wrong battle. But we keep trying. We learn eventually, and we do what we can to make it right. Damage is done, and it's never gonna be able to be fixed. Not even with your damn angel mojo, did that ever happen, k?"

Castiel narrowed his gaze, confused by that, his head almost quirking, but his energy was even too tired to allow that.

"You heal the body, yeah, but not the mind, not the experience, it's still there, you can't take that away. You just gotta do what you can, and move on. All we can do is keep trying, Cas. Or else, what the hell are we still breathing for?"

Castiel watched him, almost seeming to consider his words for a moment and Dean straightened up, thinking perhaps he finally got through to him. Castiel's brows furrowed then as he responded.

"Then answer me this; do you forgive me for all my faults, my failures? Because I remember vividly that even without knowing and hearing all the facts behind some of those failures, you assured me that apologies were pointless." Castiel said. "I tried to apologize, for the damage I did because of Naomi and what happened with the tablet and everything else. Do you remember what you told me?"

"Cas—that's forgiven and forgotten, I haven't brought that up against you in a—"

"You told me sorry didn't cut it. And that I should…to quote you correctly, 'cram the apology up my ass'. I knew then, it never mattered WHY I did anything. It will never be right enough by everyone, if anyone."

"That's crap, Cas." Dean took a step closer, pointing a finger and inwardly regretting having said that to Castiel before even if he had felt it right in that moment.

"It didn't matter that it was after that, that I sought out a way to make things right and thought I found it in Metatron."

"Cas. Stop."

"Again, I failed."

"So the fuck does everyone else."

"You were disappointed, angry until you found me on that road."

"I was angry, Cas, yes, I get pissed and I was pissed then, but that was from all the shit—just, everything we've been put through over the past…I don't even know how long, to even include all the crap we deal with! Humans fucking react emotionally when they're hit by shit-storms, and I didn't want to understand what had been the cause or reason for anything for you, I just…" Dean shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, hating some of the words but still admitting them. "I get pissed at the world and sometimes that gets aimed at specific people, it ain't an excuse, but it ain't disappointment either, Cas. You're still here."

"It doesn't matter." Castiel shook his head.

"Yes, it does, Castiel, 'cause I didn't want to hear, and you had to go to METATRON. Just like you had to go to Crowley..!"

Castiel visibly winced, shaking his head more fervently. "It. Doesn't. Matter." He looked Dean in the eyes again then. And Dean, with that gaze, was done. He closed the space and grasped Castiel by the shoulders, forcing the angel to face him and hear him.

"Right now, you are gonna tell me everything, explain it all."

"Dean-"

"Tell me everything with Naomi that you didn't tell me or explain before. And anything else, you tell me it right now. You want to try and convince me of this damn self-hatred you have right now, then give me all the facts you have in your head."

Castiel was taken aback, and could do nothing but comply. "…N-Naomi brought me from Purgatory, and I didn't know…didn't understand or get control until it was nearly too late…when you were on your knees and bleeding. Whatever she did, she was able to speak to me, condition me, convince me to do what she wanted or needed, without even removing my presence Earth. I could be at your very side…as I had been when we were there with the angel tablet, and be there before Naomi at the same time. She wanted me to kill you, Dean, she…I can see flashes, she was pushing me, conditioning….so many times, she made me kill you."

Dean was surprised by that. "…She made you…?"

"Practice, to make sure I could do it. I lost count of how many times she pushed me to do it; she was never able to trust I could do it. You died by my hands so many times..."

Dean's hold on Castiel's upper arms softened faintly.

"She made me…do so many things, condition me, convinced me by telling me I had stained my hands with the blood of Heaven, and I had to fix it. But this doesn't matter, Dean—it just doesn't, it doesn't change—"

"Yes, goddamn it, it does. The reasons for why we do what we do are always important, and I am going to understand why you did the things you hate yourself for doing." Dean stated forcefully.

"No, Dean it doesn't; there are too many reasons, and none of them excuse what I have done! It doesn't matter if I thought it would make things better. Or if I thought it was something you wanted, that would keep you and Sam and the rest of the human race safe, or better off than they were. It doesn't matter what I've…what I've felt, if these hands," he raised his hands between the two of them, "are still marked with blood of too many that didn't deserve the shedding of that blood."

"It. Does. Matter." Dean told him, and though his voice was low, his tone was strong, as were his eyes and his hold on Castiel.

Castiel swallowed, beginning to shake his head as he lowered his gaze again.

"DEEEAAN! CAS!" Sam's voice tore down the hall and into the silence of their room with panic that told them something was wrong.

Dean released Castiel and was already making his way to the door with Castiel behind him. "SAM!" he called back, racing down the hall. "Sam, what's going on?!"

"We've got company!"

Dean picked up his speed, if it was even possible for him to run faster. Soon the corner of the hall was in sight, and with the sound of Castiel shoes pounding behind him just on his tail, he turned the corner to where he knew he'd last left Sam at his computer for research on a job.

"Dean, it's here, he—he's here, what the hell are you—" they heard Sam speak with worry and confusion just as they find him further from than desk than usual, and they just catch Sam throwing his hand up to cover his eyes and ears as a screeching noise was growing and tearing through the bunker, a white silhouette between Sam and them, turning to them as it's light was growing and expanding.

The last thing Dean heard was Castiel just speaking before his words were cut short. All he got out was, "G—" before everything was silence and darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Odd One Out

Ch.2

 

 

The darkness surrounded Dean endlessly, so much so, that it wasn't until he gave a movement without thought that he realized that the darkness wasn't unconsciousness as he was absently thinking, but it was where ever he had been blasted to. He was awake, and he almost felt alone. The darkness felt very empty as he began to move from what felt like a fallen position. Moving to his hands and knees, he gave a grumbled, 'Whoa'. His balance was off, or maybe it was this place.

The darkness, he noticed as he looked around once he stood, was fading more into a dark grey. It was no more comforting, nor was the fact that when he tried to walk, he felt like the surface under his feet was unstable—like walking on one of those nets put under a tight rope. This was going to get annoying. Actually, it already was.

He looked over himself then, trying to assess where he was, and what had happened. He saw no wounds, though he sure felt strange in ways he could describe as well as ways he couldn't. He felt like he weighed less, he felt dizzy once and again. What the hell had happened? He'd been talking to Castiel, and then Sam…

"Sam…" he muttered, searching around, but seeing nothing but the dark grey formless area around him. He didn't even know if this was a room or a chasm or what, the place was formless. Hell, it could be a box or an endless, room-less place and he couldn't even tell. All he could tell was that he was here, seemingly alone, darkness spotted with black now, like that black ahead of him that he began to eye warily, though it did not move.

He searched around, the grayness darkening now and again and as he moved around in circles and forward. He noticed the specs of light in the blackness. Only a few at first and he began nearing them, but they were appearing more and more, small and big, and soon enough it looked like he was walking through the night sky as they seemed like stars.

"What the hell is going on…?" he shook his head, remembering the light that had blasted him here, the noise, Castiel saying something and being cut short. Then he felt his stomach drop and he looked around. "Cas…CAS!" The angel had been right at his side and now—

Dean almost fell back, as he had neared that black mound that had stood out in the gray. It was moving. And as it did, he notice similar specs of star-like light here and there, though the blackness, as it moved, shined with iridescent colors. He took a step back, as the black expanded and opened…to reveal the angel half on his knees.

"Cas…!" Dean neared him, dropping to his knees in front of him, looking over him to assess him. He didn't see any noticeable wounds, but Castiel seemed more affected than Dean by _something_. Dean reached a hand to place on his shoulder, only to pull back—Castiel was giving off some sort of heat; Dean only felt it when he almost touched Castiel, but even so, it was intense.

Castiel looked weary, like he was recovering from something, his eyes shut and his breathing labored. Dean couldn't tell what it was, and he didn't like that. The iridescent blackness around Castiel moved again, expanding behind him and stretching as the angel dropped his head back with a huff and Dean realized what the iridescent black mass was.

It was Castiel's wings. Black, bird-like wings, but greater, bigger…and broken and half featherless. Though, that seemed to be changing. Dean watched those wings, wings he'd only glimpsed shadows off, as they seemed to be growing back, mending from a broken and ruined state.

"Cas…what's….what going on?" Dean asked.

"I…" Castiel gasped, shaking his head. "…Something…did this…sent us…my grace… My grace is…is returning…"

Dean could barely wonder who would do that and why; could they trust who had done this, were they doing it for their own reasons or to help? And where the hell had they been sent? He didn't ask any of those questions, though, as he stared in confused awe as the specks of stars seem to multiply in Castiel's wings, the upper feathers flecked more with the light, the lower feathers less. These were Castiel's wings? Dean shook his head; of all his time knowing Castiel, and what he was, he'd never considered his truer angel traits, he'd only ever seen—well, seen his vessel, Jimmy. That was Castiel to him, now. He couldn't even let himself be reminded of Jimmy's existence, or he wouldn't be able to look at Castiel the same way.

That dizziness returned to Dean then as he still watched Castiel's wings, though it felt twisted up with a strange pull and fascination. He felt the strange desire to feel how tangible those wings were, but his vision began to register a glow then, and he looked to Castiel to see his body was glowing faintly. Glowing, his flesh, his clothes, everything but his wings which seemed to be expanding. In the glow, Dean also registered something even stranger about him…like his body—his vessel, was slowly fading, as if it might vanish.

"Cas!" Dean panicked, reaching a hand despite the heat that registered before his hand touched Castiel's shoulder. But despite the heat he'd felt before he made contact, it was as if it wasn't there anymore. No, it was, but…the heat didn't cause him pain.

Castiel looked to him then, the blues of his eyes seeming brighter. They were brighter, because his eyes were beginning to glow. They only ever did that when he used his angel power, what was going on?!

"Cas, you're…are you fading?! What's happening?" Dean asked, and even the feel of his burning, glowing shoulder was feeling different. It reminded him of snow, at least the feel, not the temperature of it. It felt solid in some ways, but could easily, over time with touch, dissolve away.

"My vessel…"

"What the hells' wrong with your vessel?" Dean asked urgently.

"N-nothing, Dean." Castiel assured him, head falling forward causing him to lean forward, almost crashing into Dean as his head hung.

"Yeah, it sure looks like nothing." Dean grunted.

"It's not…what you think…I and my vessel…are healthy. Healthier than before, actually. My grace…its mending me, and now that it's with me…here in this place, its…"

"This place?" Dean's brows furrowed and he released Castiel, but couldn't tear his eyes away. Because Castiel's body—vessel, was still glowing. "You know what this place is?"

Castiel's head still hung, but it gave a single nod. At this rate, the translucency that was over taking Castiel was unnerving, Dean was afraid to even touch him, and he had to back away from the warmth coming off of him; the angel's vessel was nothing but a glowing meat-suit, blue shining from his eyes and faint white light wisping out around him. It caused Castiel to stand out among the darkness.

"Cas….buddy, what's going on, where are we? Do you even know why we're here?"

Castiel's vessel raised its head, and shining blue eyes looked to Dean, who had to almost squint in return. Castiel, with a breath, got to his feet and looked away, moving from Dean, who stood as if to follow him. "I don't know what's…what's caused this, I don't know why this is happening….but we are…in a middle plane, reserved for guardian or mission-sent angels. This place is where we come, it's connected to Heaven, but it is a middle ground between Heaven and Earth and therefor…must not have been affected by what's happened in Heaven. We would settle here, when watching over charges or events, or as we were in search of vessels; it works as a perch for us to look out upon Earth from."

Dean took a step forward, noticing that Castiel would slightly move away with each step. "…Okay. So we're on some Heavenly perch…?"

"Yes…it's no use to Metatron at this point, so that's why it's so empty. You and I are the only ones here."

"And Sam?"

"Back on Earth, I assume in the bunker. We were the only ones affected by that blast." Castiel spoke, more as if it was his theory, but he sounded sure enough.

That eased some of Dean's worries, but not enough of them. "So you have…no frickin' idea, no more than me, as to why we're here?"

"No, I don't." Castiel told him. "But that's not the biggest problem."

Dean made a face, muttering to himself, "Of course it isn't…" before he spoke louder for Castiel to hear. "Okay, and what is?"

"This Perch…angels exist here usually without need of vessels. That is why Jimmy's body is fading from its tangible existence. My….true, angel form will soon be release from his flesh-cage, and be in full view. And that is dangerous. Even more so because I cannot control it. My grace is still mending, returning to me, and here…" he sighed, shaking his head, and Dean thought he heard some faint noise—was that strings, music?—with no source, it seemed. "Here, it will revert to natural form in an attempt to right the wrongs in my brokenness more fully. Right now, Dean, slowly but surely, my form is bursting forth. You have to turn away, close your eyes, cover your ears. You have to do this until I can figure out why we're here and how to get back."

Dean half heard the rest of what he said, and half wondered where the hell those faint noises of music were coming from. That had to be music, it's what it sounded like—heavenly, otherworldly, operatic almost, from what little he could hear. Was that what he needed to cover his ears from or was that something else?

"Dean, you have to keep away." Castiel gave extra warning, barely glancing back to Dean, who took a step forward.

He asked, with confusion in his many thoughts, "Why?"

"I…I don't know, Dean. Even after all we've been through, I can't be sure you can witness me." Castiel told him, and there was a musical ring to the word 'me'. It was so weird to Dean, but there was fascination trying to replace the feeling of it being so unusual. Dean didn't even usually go for music beyond those of guitars and drums and screeching vocals, yet it was like something was pushing him to want to hear…maybe even to see…to witness what was coming. Castiel speaks again, and the foreign, music-like noise twists sporadically into his words, almost impossibly sounding like words, if music could do that. "Are you hearing me, Dean? You have to protect yourself."

Dean barely heard the actual words; he was too busy trying to figure out the sound, intrigued by the fact that that sound was coming from Castiel speaking. His mind tried to tell him it was instruments making music, words made into singing, words of a foreign and entrancing language. He looked around distractedly, then back to Castiel, taking a few breaths.

"Cover your eyes!" Castiel warned again, half facing Dean, and what could still be seen of Jimmy's features twisted into worry and panic and annoyance, his words turning the music high-pitched, but Dean didn't register pain from the octave. No, though his ears did feel a weird…expansion, like they were taking in more sound. It reminding him of times when he had to pop his ears, and how sound would flood in clearer and louder than before.

"…This is weird, Cas…" he said then, not even responding to or listening to Castiel's warnings now, to the angels displeasure. "…This…it's kind of…amazing." Dean admitted, taking another step closer to Castiel. He surprised himself with that comment as he couldn't even figure out why it seemed so amazing to him, so dizzyingly intriguing. Dean's sense of danger was of course registering, especially when Castiel would warn him, but for some reason, Dean just couldn't listen to it.

"Dean, I can't warn you again, stay away!" Castiel demanded, voice filled with worry, his wings pulling in around him.

"Fuck that." was Dean's response, the dizzy fascination leading him at the moment, a feeling growing in his chest, growing along with the glow of Castiel. He neared Castiel, against what would otherwise perhaps be his better judgment. The warmth of the light, the sound of that music, it was something completely else and Dean could almost feel something…euphoric, growing. Had he ever felt euphoria before? He couldn't even think about it right now. Everything growing from Castiel right now was entrancing, gripping his heart and making him feel like he was rising up above and beyond all his fears and worries and annoyances that he'd been feeling for days, weeks, MONTHS. Years. All of that was far away, far away from here and now.

But all the while, Castiel was stepping away, almost stumbling back by now. He was nearly nothing but light and shimmering wings now, and as he backed away, Dean noticed that each step, each beat of fidgety wings was beginning to cause sudden wisps of color in the surrounding grey blackness that now seemed to be blue blackness. The colors, blues, pinks, purples, greens….they wisped and expanded and faded into the black, but before they faded and as they returned from the movement and activity here, it reminded Dean of galaxies and nebula's.

"Cas….stop." Dean spoke carefully then to Castiel, who's wings pulled in around the light coming off of him, trying to cover it, almost hiding in his wings as Dean said, "I'm not scared… If I've managed…to endure EVERYTHING so far…all of Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, and everything else in between with dick bags and decent angels… Surely…surely, if I'm meant to withstand that, I'm meant to withstand this."

"You can't…know that…Dean." Castiel told him, his voice—Jimmy's rough tone, it was only half heard now, something like a deep-sounding string instrument twisting with the words.

Dean wasn't heeding the caution in Castiel's voice or actions, though. No, he reached out then, and ran his fingers across Castiel's wings, causing them to twitch with Castiel's surprise, following his stillness. Dean thought he heard Castiel gasp. He didn't move his wings from how they wrapped around him, though, still worried. Even so, they were moving somehow. No, not moving. They were growing, little by little as the seconds passed. Acting upon his fascination over the wings, period, not just over his fascination of them being Castiel's tangible wings, he pets his fingers over and carefully through the feathers. They felt like feathers, of course, but different. They were stronger in their texture, thicker. And his very touch seemed to cause the iridescence and spots of light to shine where he touched it.

Dean's hand ran across the down feathers and the primary, feeling through them. His fingertips glided back over the back of Castiel wings, over the bends of it, his fingers nearing where the wings would protrude from Cas—Jimmy's back, and any noticeable traces of his body and clothes, apart from the silhouette of him, was gone and swallowed in light. And his touch there at the joined spot of the wing and back finally made Castiel jump back, wings opening as the silhouette of light backed away. The only traces of any details or features of Jimmy's form that was left were his eyes, everything else was gone.

Dean was squinting, the light almost too much by now for his eyes but he couldn't look away, his eyes on Castiel's as the angel spoke. And his voice as he did sounded so small, so full of fear and worry beyond the twang, twist, and tear of music. But there was something that was tender there, too, as he said the single word.

"Dean." It rang through the darkness, causing wisps of colors around them.

Finally, the silhouette of Jimmy's vessel vanished, like snow exposed to heat releasing mist after (the light the mist in this situation), and Dean had to cover his eyes reflexively from the light that burst forth like a flood, growing stronger and brighter, spreading warmth and colors along the fabric of the darkness as the light grew taller and wider. A choir-orchestra sound grew, filling Dean's ears increasingly until that was all he could hear. The white was accompanied by the darkness that was Castiel's wings, which were growing at an alarming rate.

The stars seem to react to the light, drawing and pulling the colors that birthed forth, dancing in the skies together. As the form of light reached higher and taller, Dean was having to crane his head up, trying to adjust his eyes to the light, looking higher and higher. Finally, it stopped growing, at least stopped growing upward. And the music was almost drowned out for a moment by the sound of a tearing growl and roar that caused Dean to fall on his back.

He hurried to sit up, move at least to his knees to look up and take full witness of Castiel's form. The light was now half-formed into something very tall, thicker at its bottom, thinner in the middle, though strangely shaped and moving at the top. The wings expanded behind the mass of light, light which was whipping out and about, pulling and pushing through the air, causing curls and puffs of colors in the darkness. The roar ripped through again causing a crescendo of sound and Dean felt such a petrifying mix of fear and fascination, he almost forgot to breath.

The light (somehow still able to) increased. But it was no longer just white, as in the light, wisps and pulses of the lightest blue begin to appear, growing and wrapping into the white. Only to be swallowed up back into darkness and Dean audibly gasped, thinking Castiel had vanished in the midst of his forming. Panicking, the angels shortened version of his name passed inaudibly from Dean's lips. But then he noticed, amongst the star-specked darkness were shimmers of black iridescence. Dean could barely fathom the size, but Castiel's wings had grown to fit and accompany his form now, and they were enough to wrap and cover him. It was ridiculous, his height—higher than any building he'd seen or witnessed. Dean could feel the ache in his neck and head from the craning to look, but he didn't care, so he just ignored it.

No, his mind was on the height of the being before him, and how the musical sound that would lightly stir colors through the darkness seem to ebb and flow with a soft rhythm. It reminded Dean of breathing and it made Dean wonder if it was Castiel's breath, or did angels even have to breathe? Whatever it was, it obviously came from Castiel, and it seemed to be a reactive noise, as its rhythm quickened a bit as the massive wings wrapped tighter around the gigantic form.

"Cas…it's okay." Dean spoke then, the words coming without much thought on his part, but as he said them, he recognized that Castiel was hiding himself. Was he still scared Dean's eyes would burn out, his ears would bust? Well, his vision wasn't ruined so far, and his ears were working just fine. Or was it something else?

Whatever it was, though, Castiel was slowly letting it go, because his wings slowly shed from their shell-like position of shielding him. The wings expanded, and they were twice the size of Castiel himself, more or less, Dean couldn't even waste time trying to mentally measure. No, he could only notice the speckles in the inner side of Castiel's wings, how the iridescence was more obvious there. And then there was Castiel's form itself, the blinding light still blinding in its brightness and yet, Dean's eyes adjusted to it just fine.

The light was bursting from nearly every inch of Castiel, it would whip out like tendrils, wrapping around the form itself only to flow back among the rest of light, like splashing of water returning into the flow of the ocean. It was so strange to Dean, how it would whip and move about, the light of Castiel's form. Was he still forming? No, Dean was catching on. No, this must be how his form was most of the time. It made him consider how compact and constricting that vessels felt like for him and other angels; he'd never even thought about it before (and for some he wouldn't care) and if he ever thought of anything like it, it was more the vessels side of it he ever considered. But Castiel, he had to contain himself, in something so small and different…

The more of Castiel he took in, he realized just how much he'd never thought or considered. Nothing of this true, nakedness of Castiel that was before him now. Never once had the thoughts crossed his mind before, and right now, he felt privileged. Something he'd never been one to think he'd ever feel with anything relating to Heaven or angels or faith or religion, especially after his past experiences thus far apart from befriend the angel before him.

He began to follow the trails of marks and streaks and veins of pulsing blue light. Some of the streaks seemed almost like stripes to Dean. Specific kinds of stripes that he couldn't place until he followed their pattern to see it was marked up to the neck of something…horse-like. No, it was like a zebra's face; that was the most accurate thing Dean could compare it to, but still not so. It was as if it was something more, that Dean couldn't fully fathom, but a zebra was the closest to what he could compare it to. It was one of three moving heads, and that realization made his stomach sink but his eyes kept searching, discovering as the zebra head gave a yipping sound like slamming the higher noted piano keys. It was only when he heard the roar like a deep cello tearing into his ears that he looked to the head at the furthest end. This head brought rippling music as it growled, and a wild mane of whipping light seemed to make up what to Dean looked like a lion. Still, there was a feeling like it was something great, something more magnificent than what Dean was fathoming, but that was what he identified it as. These things, these heads, they were part of Castiel. They were Castiel, he let that sink in, and nearly choked on how terrifying and beautiful it was, he looked Castiel over once more.

He noticed its size seemed to make up what looked like some sort of body, but beyond what he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot. The two heads were at the shoulders of what seemed to be a strange torso. It was massive in the front and top, enough to account for the heads, but the further down his torso Dean looked, what was like his waist thinned out, and then there was the legs, which were thick and massive as tree trunks that, with some movement of them or the light, they seemed to join as one now and again. The light at the very bottom of the trunk-legs seemed to try to root into the darkness, causing wisping colors.

Music suddenly whimpered out of the faint hum, and Dean's gaze followed back upwards, following the blue veins and streaks and the pulsing white, all collecting into a source in the middle of his chest. A glowing mass of blue-white light where the veins pulsed from. Finally, Dean's eyes reach to the very height of this…honestly breath-taking being before him. He WAS breathless by this point, having to lean back upon the dark surface of this plane as he saw what was the middle face. A long, thick neck and then finally, what was a striking face. That's what it seemed to be at least. It had the same shape, grooves of a face but it lacked ears, a nose, a mouth, hair, or anything of that like. No, the only thing that was like the faces Dean had known were what could only be eyes. They were sideways oval's of striking blue light, so like the blue of Castiel's eyes when they would shine through Jimmy's, yet brighter. And even without the hair of it, the brows of that face pulled like that of any other face. They furrowed together as the blue ovals were upon Dean.

"C-Cas…" Dean gasped, really registering, telling himself, over and over, that all of this was Castiel. THIS was his true self, his true form. He was seeing the true Castiel for the first time since he met him.

Castiel spoke once again then, but any traces of Jimmy's vocals were gone. No, it was only the music. The music hummed and pulled at strings and gave stressed twangs amongst many other sounds, and somehow Dean could hear the words meant from them; he wouldn't waste time fathoming how, but somehow the music that was Castiel's apparent language in this form was somehow able to be understood by him (was THIS Enochian for angels?). Not as if he heard words, no, but he felt them instead. He felt the meaning in the music.

What he felt Castiel speak was, 'I'm sorry for this. Humans aren't often meant to witness angels like this, and you are lucky you aren't wounded like your psychic friend who lost her sight by looking upon this…' the lion growled as the zebra shook its head. 'We need to find out what is going on to have brought us here, and how to return as soon as possible.'

It took Dean a moment to reply, still adjusting from FEELING Castiel's words, and perhaps more, but he found his working mind once again. "Why the fuck should we? I-I don't want to leave this place, this is too amazing, and I'm lucky as hell to be witnessing this."

Castiel began pulling his wings around himself again, the middle head turning slightly away, and Dean stood then.

"Stop. Why are you doing that? You're trying to hide, Cas, why?"

'This is wrong, Dean. You're not meant to be here, in this place—'

"Don't give me the bullcrap."

'Dean.' The music gave a burst of color amongst the ebb and flow, before it began to flow like slow ripples in response to the hum that came then as Castiel continued. 'I am naked, bare, and more than just my form will be felt and bestowed upon you. Angels aren't meant…' there was a twang and the pull of deep tones of a cello, '…to hold as many emotions, if ANY, as I have held and still hold. And they will flow soon, as my words flow now. This place is meant to be bare and pure, in such a way as purgatory was,' there was a pang in music as well as in Dean's chest from the mention of the purity of purgatory, 'but more terrifying and holy.' Ironically, the feeling of holy was brought by the pings of bells.

"Well I don't care, I still don't want to leave. Whatever this place is about, its…nothing I've experienced before…" Dean voices this honestly, and almost feared leaving once he admitted it. He suddenly wanted to cling to this place here.

But after his admittance, the flow of music began to grow and intensify. It was growing in the distance, though, and Dean took notice of how the middle head bowed downward and the other two looked too and fro, anywhere but at him. Arm's began to form, or perhaps they had already been there in the light. Two pairs of arms, a longer pair and a shorter pair, both thin and strange as one pair had fewer fingers than normal while the other had normal numbers. But they both began to wrap around Castiel's form, and the twisting music pulled at something in Dean's chest as he witnessed this and he furrowed his brows.

Once again, he speaks the angels name carefully, "Cas…" and the beginnings of this new flow of music was finally reaching Dean. Not just sounding clearer, but _reaching_ him and he could feel it in his soul, his very body. "I'm not scared of you…" he said then as the music flowed to him what he knew were Castiel's fears and worries, countless, whether they be of the world and existence as a whole, or of what was happening here in this very moment. In this very moment, what Dean felt was the screech of strings telling him something like aversion to this very situation of Castiels form being exposed, of it being bare for judgment. "I'm not disgusted, or disappointed…" Then, there was the whine and pull in the string and in a strange voice-like instrument that felt as if it cried out with pain, care, and love.

"Castiel."

The middle head that had curled down towards his chest now looked up to Dean partially, surprised at hearing his full and true name and his blue gaze locked upon Dean's green eyes, which looked back. And it was as if then, whether of his willingness, his sudden-felt security, or through accident, it all flooded forth without filter or halt or control, knocking Dean literally off his feet.

Naked, bare, and raw emotion and feeling flooded through the space between them and through Dean as the music was building and twisted with so much noise, almost too much, and the wisping colors were a hypnotic rainbow scarring the darkness and dancing with the star light. All of it was forming words and meaning that was bringing Dean near tears as he was making sense of it all, all at once, keeping his eyes locked with Castiel's.

So many words twisted together in the music; heaven, hell, failure, friend, follower, leader, loyalty, betrayal, brothers, sisters, friends, lover, father, humanity, perfection, flawed perfection, protection, love, demons, hate, pity, warrior, fighter, purpose, rebel, Lucifer, failure, weakling, screw-up, problem, homeless, alone, without, hunter, angel, human, profound, Winchester, bond, fighters, legends, legacies, friends, care, hope, pain, change, twisting, shouting, hurting—

Dean was gasping by now, tears flowing, almost streaming, without sobs. He couldn't fathom words and couldn't waste time trying to speak as he just tried to handle taking all that was flooding to him and around him.

Soon words repeated once again, words that seemed to be held stronger than others. Warrior sounded like a gong being pounded for war. Family sounded like the intensity of a violin being played with passion by a prodigy. Loyalty was the pangs of a piano being played so gracefully and effortlessly and swiftly, notes interweaving with one another in complicated, battling ways. Fight, try, survive, fight, try, safe, fight, try, be good all pounded like great drums and something strummed akin to a guitar though not completely the same.

The last word, last name, was the most powerful—it was as if all the music was building up to this very moment, to the high-point of a symphony that lifted the hunters spirit and then dropped it hard just as easily as he made sense of what the assault of sound in perfect, purposeful unison meant.

Dean Winchester.

It was then that Dean felt ALL that Castiel did, and what all he felt from Castiel, pain, hurt, care, and love all seemed to pull at him, wrapping him up, and pulling him. The colors blurred the edges of Dean's vision that wasn't focused on the bright blue as he noticed somewhere in the back of his mind that these feelings he felt FROM Castiel were pulling feelings buried deep inside himself. Anger, fear, conditioned beliefs of family and those around him. Confusion and the fearful unknown. All of it pulled up and out of him in what he KNEW was euphoric realization then. A last tear fell from his eyes as he reached his hand up at Castiel, gasping his name with admiration, awe, adoration, and a foreign but pronounced love as one of those small arms of Castiel's reached out in return for him. Even one of his wings extended forward as the angel was leaning somewhat down and forward.

The arm was reaching and twisting inhumanly, like it was growing longer and the hand smaller. The hand almost looked human and as it neared Dean's, he noticed how its shape was exactly that of the handprint that had marked his skin when he'd been Raised.

Their fingertips, reaching, just finally touched when the specks of starlight around them began to swirl, and the music began to screech and tear and roar. Dean moved his hands to his ears in surprise of the noise, and he hurried to his feet. Emotions raw and painful at this point, he was almost choked with worry for Castiel and what had made him screech like that. He looked around and then back to the angel. And the angel was shrinking, his light darkening, quicker and quicker. Dean tried to move as it kept shrinking, until it seemed like the light had shrunk into nothing, and then there was darkness.

_**Darkness, he was falling, and falling, everything returning into its human-bound cage of emotions. And then, growing clarity.** _

When Dean finally began to wake and stir, he finds he's being shaken by Sam. He can hear his voice, sounding familiar in a far off, small, and dull way, almost unsatisfying to Dean's ears. He can also hear something that sounds like Kevin saying Castiel's name, too. And with a sudden rush of painful panic, Dean sits straight up, eyes shooting open. Dizziness over took him and he was lucky he was still on the floor, having been there lying unconscious before. Taking only a brief moment to settle from his spinning head, Dean realized he was gripping something. He looked to see that he was holding onto the upper part of the sleeve to Castiel's trench-coat.

There was silence as the other two conscious men watched Dean with worry and expectancy. He said nothing to them, though, as he moved to his knees to lean over Castiel, shaking him as Kevin had been, Kevin speaking his name in unsure tones.

Dean gave him a shake, though, speaking the angels name firmly with his worry and need to know Castiel was alright. "Cas!"

Castiel, lying flat on his stomach, gasped in a breath into his vessel then, and the boys move back in surprise as the breath in brought about the shadows of his curled wings, one spread just around and beside Kevin's knee (which he noticed, and scooted away in an 'oops'-like nature). The other, Dean noticed, curled near him and the hunter reached a hand to rub at it, though feeling Castiel's back instead, even though the shadow wing reacted to the touch before fading.

Castiel took in more breaths then, and tried to move, move to look to Dean, only managing to barely roll off his stomach. Dean didn't take his eyes away, watching Castiel as the angel watched him, gasping and calming, his eyes never leaving Dean until it was made a point by the other two men to have the two of them checked out and questioned.

Dean felt stable enough after waking more thoroughly from his unconscious state they'd been stirred from, but Castiel was still seeming weak and shaky, so the three men took the angel to his room, laying him up in bed, Dean lightly covering him with blankets as he pulled Sam aside to talk about what had happened. Sam had brought in a sandwich on a plate with a generic beverage, setting it on Castiel's side table.

"I don't think he'll need that…" Dean commented, glancing over Castiel, but as he felt his gaze beginning to linger, he looked back to his brother. "…So, what did you find out while we were out?"

Sam's brows pulled together with frustrated confusion. "…Nothing completely concrete…but…"

"But what?"

Sam shook his head, looking over the room as if trying to fathom his own thoughts. "I may be wrong, I mean…I don't even know HOW it could BE, if I'm right, but… I thought...I saw…Gabriel."

Dean's features went from surprised, to confusion, to judgmental, to just a settled look of 'well of course, why not him again'. He didn't let himself wonder why Gabriel would have sent them to go through what they'd went through.

Sam shrugged. "I can't be sure, I know its probably impossible."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. "…Maybe not. Castiel was saying something before we were zapped away. Starting with a G. Coulda been. Not sure if that possibility is a comfort or another annoyance."

Sam somewhat laughed. "I think it's a safe bet to say both."

Dean just scoffed, shaking his head. His mind almost tried to wonder over that, and it was much more free to do so here on Earth again apparently without getting distracted by that _pull_. But Dean wasn't letting his mind go anywhere else. Dean just shrugged dismissively. "I could be him, and maybe it can't be, who knows why the hell he or anyone would put me and Cas through what…what we went through, anyways… I really don't care right now." Dean told Sam, running a hand over his mouth, watching the ground just at the edge of Castiel's bed. "So…nothing happened to you?"

"No. The light flashed, you two were gone, and then an hour or so later, there's a bang, me and Kevin come running to find you two there on the floor."

Dean just nods as Sam looked to Castiel.

"You think he's gonna be alright?"

Dean looked to his brother, and then to Castiel and after a moment of watching Castiel's sleeping figure propped on the pillows, he nodded. "…He's a tough little dude."

Sam smiled smally at that, nodded, and made his leave. Whether or not his brother expected him to follow, Dean wasn't worried about. No, because as the moment Sam made his leave, Castiel's 'sleeping' eyes slipped open with the shutting of the door which Dean had done.

His eyes were on Dean, and Dean's on him. Castiel was the first to speak, and it was still comforting but almost lacking, hearing Jimmy's altered voice once more.

"You weren't meant to see that… Dean… Any… You weren't meant to be witness."

Dean came around to sit on the other side of the bed with a plop, half facing Castiel as he responded. "Yeah, well, I was witness. And you need to listen to me know." He raised a hand, leaning his head a bit as he did when he was intent on making his point to someone. "You aren't an odd one out here, Cas, you never have been… Even in your oddest moments, you have been one of us. And nothing can change that any more than…than tainting himself or purifying himself with the trials did to Sam, or whatever that was. Or going through hell did to me, before you… Cas, we've been through hell and back. Literally, and more." Dean moved a bit on the bed to face Castiel more directly, his tone softening. "I may get pissed at you, and you know me by now, I get pissed often and maybe…maybe without good enough reason, but that don't change how I feel. My anger has never made me love my brother any less, and it won't change how I….love you."

Castiel could only watch him, looking small and weak and confused, but yet hopeful. It reminded Dean of when they were there in the Perch, how Castiel had looked to him before his form had burst forth and free. How he had said Dean's name. Or even the looks of those faces in his true form, how he watched Dean. How his very NAME sounded from Castiel through that musical sound that was just barely fathomable anymore. And Dean still felt what that sound had communicated to him, and he was still affected by what it had pulled forth from deep within him.

With Dean's unwavering and wandering gaze on him, Castiel not knowing what it was for, he averted his gaze the longer Dean watched him. His face slightly reddened, but he looked away as if ashamed almost. He said, "Everything back there, Dean—You weren't meant to see. You were drawn in, affected by something…beyond any previous experience. You were…overwhelmed…nothing more." Castiel was simply trying to keep within the safety of his doubt and shame of his form. He swallowed. "…Humans were made…perfect by gods intentions, and we… We were something else, an imperfect over-abundance of a first attempt at something great… but we were just something _else_ , and that something else isn't a welcoming sight. That's the truth of it."

"Nah, that isn't it, Cas. It just isn't."

With near exasperation, Castiel opened his mouth to say something, but then just shut it again, his gaze still avoiding anything that was Dean.

Dean took a breath and sighed, narrowing his gaze on Castiel. "I wish I was told this more when I was younger, but you know what, I got it eventually…from you, maybe not in the same words or in the most perfect ways, but you still said it and made me feel it, and I need to return the favor."

Castiel almost cast his eyes upward, but instead, he just let his gaze fall elsewhere towards a corner of the room.

"You are not useless, Cas. Or weak. Or a mistake, or a failure. You are not stupid for wanting to do what's right, that is NEVER stupid. And about…what I saw back there?"

Castiel's breath caught, heightened a bit, still not looking to Dean.

"I hate God, and you know that by now, but whatever happened back there, I don't regret a minute of it because for the first time I witnessed something made by God that I never believed existed any more than I believed or believe in him in any sense. What I saw back there was terrifying, and breath-taking…and possibly…" Dean's voice shook then, in a way that it barely ever did unless he felt truly vulnerable, or deeply emotional about what he was speaking of. "Possibly the most beautiful thing…I have ever seen…or heard…or experienced, or FELT, Cas…" he swallowed then, brows furrowing, "And what I felt…?"

Castiel finally looked to Dean then, unable to hold himself back any longer as he looked so small, his chest rising and falling. Dean reached a hand to take Castiel, and was reminded of how that hand had reached for him, that shining hand changing and reaching just so it could take Dean's—just to touch him. Castiel always changing, for Dean.

Castiel's brows furrowed with emotion, and beyond the furrowing of Jimmy's features, Dean could almost envision, could almost see the pull of the brows of that white face, with those shining eyes. The memory of the music echoed the emotions they'd both felt back there, amidst the twang and the strings that pulled at Dean's chest, even still, pulling him forward.

It was then, in a snap decision that wasn't even needed to be spoken between them, Castiel shot up off the pillows as Dean crawled the space of the bed between them in simultaneous acts. Castiel's hands reached and found Dean's neck and hair, grasping hold there as Dean's arms wound themselves around Castiel's form, holding his back, keeping him tight and close. And sealing and sending off the final crescendo of music still echoing in Dean's mind, their lips met and began to live up to what emotion, music, naked _being_ had been left behind in that Perch.


End file.
